Gin Blossom
by Elrec
Summary: Devi's life is good now. She moved far away from that town, has got an amazing group of friends, and her career as an artist is going great. Nny knows the past is gone, but he wants to see if something can be found to take its place. One-shot.


_Author's Note: Inspired by Hey Jealousy, a song by the band Gin Blossom._

**Gin Blossom**

Devi let out a long, low sigh. She ran single hand across her brow, stroking ebony bangs away from ivory skin. Where her long, pale fingers brushed, a streak of gray-purple paint was left behind. Devi stepped back from her painting, and regarded it with critical eyes. A deep sense of satisfaction took root in her heart. She didn't need a psychiatrist to tell her to grab onto that feeling, to allow that sense of accomplishment to manifest. Devi knew that already. Maybe that was why she had stopped going to that shrink. She didn't need to pay some total stranger to tell her things she already knew. And Devi was happier than ever. This painting was proof of that. It didn't look like how she had expected, so of course she declared it a great success. It was supposed to be an abstract painting, a meaningless blur of purples and grays and blacks, but instead it looked like a girl of shadows looking toward a light. A light that was close. A light that was attainable.

Devi stepped back and plunked her paintbrush into a clear-glassed jar of already murky water. She lifted her apron up over her head, and draped it carelessly over the arm of her couch. She sighed in satisfaction. She ran a hand absently over the hem of her jeans. They were frayed and worn, with fresh paint splotches drying here and there. She had promised herself new ones long ago, but she had never gotten around to it. Now that she had stopped seeing her psychiatrist and moved away from that town of murder and maniacs, Devi had decided that she shouldn't care so much what other people thought of her, especially guys. So the fact that her home-clothes were frayed and paint-smeared really didn't matter much to her. In fact, she _liked_ it. She felt that the fact that her clothes- her image- was imperfect meant that she was _alive_. That she was unique and living and human.

She dressed well at her job, though, of course. A secretary at a very prestigious art gallery. They had even asked her to contribute her own paintings to be featured in the art fair that coming up Saturday. Devi's life was looking good. It was finally back on track, after it crashed and burned, thanks to-

No. She couldn't go there. Couldn't let her mind drift back to _him._ The fear had long ago faded away, after it was obvious he wasn't going to come back for her. But his absence left a certain emptiness that Devi didn't understand. A... sadness? But why, Devi wondered, did she feel compassion for that- that homicidal maniac? The logical part of Devi's mind screamed _restraining order!_ But a more subconscious part of her, the part of her that told her to believe in magic and to be afraid of the dark when she was a kid, it told her now that _it wasn't his fault._ Wasn't his fault, Devi scoffed to herself. Wasn't his fault that he murdered and killed, tried to kill _her?_ Of course it was his fault! It wasn't like something was controlling him. It was only him in his mind. He had a choice.... didn't he?

Devi chuckled to herself as she shimmied her carton of Marlboro cigarettes out of her back pocket and placed it in her mouth. Wh in the world was she thinking of him _now_, when her life was finally good? Why would she be thinking of him _at all?_

"Where's that damn lighter?" Devi said cheerfully, already shifting her mind away from... _him._ She knew exactly where her lighter was. Beneath the couch, for some reason, next to a few dust bunnies and her scuffed converse. Her apartment wasn't especially messy, but it wasn't especially clean either. She was planning on having friends over later on tonight. She really needed to clean up. Devi sank to her knees beside the couch, and groped around underneath. Her fingers curled around the cool metal of her cigarette lighter. Just as she was getting to her feet, there was a knocking at her door. Already? She hadn't expected anyone over quite yet. Oh well. It was probably Tonja, anyway, who always showed up unfashionably early for everything. Tonja was used to seeing Devi like crap, and loved her as a friend anyway.

Cigarette balanced on her lips, lighter clasped in one hand, and her other fist curled around the door knob, Devi cocked her head to the side, without looking out the eye hole, and called out: "Password?" Her and Tonja always did this. Tonja would be mad if Devi peeked.

But it definitely was not Tonja who replied. It was a male voice. "Taco..." The voice said meekly. Devi's brows furrowed. Who could that be? The voice was slightly familiar. Maybe Mero Okawa, the young man who owned the art gallery. Alone with Mero would be fine. Mero was gay. What Devi was worried about was if it was one of _Tonja's_ friends who just_ happened_ to be sent over a few hours early and just_ happened_ to be a guy. Tonja just couldn't believe that Devi was having a perfectly good life without a guy.

But taco as a password? Now _that_ was pretty funny. Devi _had_ to open the door to whoever said that.

So Devi opened the door.

And instantly regretted it.

All the possible compassion suddenly rushed away, and the emptiness that he had left was suddenly filled with the old, familiar mindless fear. For there was Nny, so tall, so pale, so cute. He wore long steel-toed boots, black skinny jeans, a striped hoodie. Something was wrong with his hair. It was like her had shaved it all off, except for two hunks in the front that hung in his face, that reminded Devi distinctly of an alien antennae. Nny stood there, hands behind his back, head bent, looking up with a sheepish expression at Devi.

The cigarette tumbled from Devi's lips to the ground, and Devi stepped back a few paces. She brandished her lighter out in front of her and flicked it on, as if it were a weapon. She opened her mouth to scream: "GO AWAY!!" but no sound came out. Tears brimmed on her eyelids, but she wouldn't allow them to fall. Those were fearful tears. Those tears were weak. She wanted to show that she was strong now. Well, she had always been strong. That's why she had been able to escape the first time.

"Devi." Nny whispered weakly, his eyes half-lidded and his expression relieved. He held out his arms, as if to surrender. "Please listen. I promise not to hurt you."

"N-no!" Devi screamed. Oh, God. She wished her voice wouldn't tremble like that. "Get the fuck out of here! I'll c-call the cops!"

Nny snort-laughed and waved a long-fingered hand dismissively. "Oh, please. As if they could do anything. Besides, that won't be necessary. I don't want to hurt you. I just wanted to see you one last time. I wanted to tell you that-"

"NO!" Devi screamed. "You're a freak! I WISH I HAD NEVER MET YOU!!" _Not his fault, _that tiny voice in the back of Devi's fear-filled heart peeped. Devi quickly quieted that voice.

"Oh, Devi..." Nny whimpered, his face crumpling. It looked like he was going to cry. He took a step forward, and she took a step back, screaming. She tripped over her coffee table. The lighter slipped from her grasp, and the flame leapt onto her just-finished painting. It burned prettily, the flames blue, purple, black, like the ruined painting itself had been. It tumbled from its stand, to the carpet, which somehow didn't catch on fire.

"NO! NO! NO!" Devi screamed, crumpled and curled on the ground. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, and turned her head away from Nny, for fear of the tears escaping. "JUST GET OUT OF MY LIFE, NNY!"

Nny stared at her, his expression unreadable. He tried to turn away quickly, but Devi saw: his face crumpled and a single tear slid down his pale cheek before he could hide it. "I'm so sorry, Devi." He whispered, his back turned to her.

"Just... just _go_...." Devi pleaded, refusing to look at him.

And so he did, pulling the apartment door shut behind him.

Devi shakily got to her feet. She placed her hand against her heaving chest, and took a couple deep, steadying breaths. Then she ran across the room and locked the door: the door's actual lock that you had to twist on the handle, the knob above that, the dead bolt, and the chain lock. Then she ran to her fridge and pulled out a pitcher of grape Kool-aid, which she dumped on the fire to stop the spreading flames. She stood there, dazed, heart pounding, tears threatening to come in the middle of her living room for what seemed like hours, staring at the smoldering pile of ashes that had once been a beautiful hope-filled painting, then at the door, where Johnny had just been standing moments before.

With a shuddering sigh, Devi collapsed on her sofa, and was somehow able to drift off into an uneasy nap.

She awoke to her Down With The Sickness ring tone. Devi cracked her eyes open, and sleepily snatched her iPhone off of the coffee table. "Hello?" She said groggily into the mouthpiece.

"Devi!"

"Tonja!" Devi cried, sitting up abruptly. "Oh, Tonja, _please_ tell me you're still coming! I _need _you right now, I-"

"Um, yeah, about that..." Tonja interrupted uneasily. A sudden dread weighed down Devi's stomach. "Yeah, I'm at the end of the hall right now..."

"Really? Then why-"

"I think you'll have to come out here and see for yourself." Tonja said uneasily, but in that ha-ha-I-know-something-you-don't-know voice Tonja sometimes got when she had an especially juicy bit of gossip, or had seen something at the grocery store. Devi stared at her apartment door, her phone still screwed up to her ear, long after the dial tone came on. Slowly, shakily, Devi put her phone down and she approached her door.

"Okay." She whispered, and flung open the door without asking for the password. It's not like she would have gotten a response from Nny anyway, who was waiting on the other side of the door.

Devi gasped and before she could stop them, hot tears were streaming down her face. But these tears weren't weak. The fear was gone, the compassion back.

_Not his fault, _that tiny voice whispered. And for once, the rest of her mind... the rest of her _heart_, agreed.

Nny lay, pale and quite lifeless, before her apartment door, a long blade coated in hot crimson blood laying beside his blood coated, splayed fingers. His wrists were cut open wide.

_Not his fault..._

_A single tear had rolled down his cheek as he turned away..._

_She had seen him outside of the bookstore window, so long ago... it had looked as if he were about to cry...._

Devi dragged her eyes away from Nny, to the wall. For on that wall, with his own blood, Nny had left Devi a message, the thing that he had wanted to tell her earlier. But she had been too mad with fear to listen to him then.

_Dear Devi D.,_

_Hey do you think it would be okay if I could just crash here tonight? As you can see, I'm in no shape for driving... and besides, I've got no place to go. And anyway it might not be that bad... you were the best I ever had. All I really want is to be with you and feel like there's more to my existence than walls covered in blood. Please, Devi? If you don't expect too much of me, I'm sure you won't be let down. If I hadn't blown the whole thing years ago, could I stay here with you? Oh, Devi... I'm not used to this pain in my wrists. This pain in my heart...._

Devi sank to her knees, and pressed her warm lips against Nny's cold ones, a kiss they would have shared long ago if only he hadn't tried to kill her. She pulled back, and sat on her knees, reading Nny's last words over and over again with moist eyes. Tonja eventually came over to stand beside her, her hand on Devi's shoulder.

"Not his fault..." Devi whispered. "Why do I feel like this, Tonja?"

"Beats me," Tonja said cheerfully. "But it's a little late for anything now. He's _so_ dead. So anyway, I brought two movies. Napoleon Dynamite and Hot Rod. Which do you want to watch first?"

Devi blinked.


End file.
